


Outrunning, Still Falling

by embroiderama



Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-17 13:50:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter gets injured on a case, and Neal can't stop blaming himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Outrunning, Still Falling

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [](http://kaylashay.livejournal.com/profile)[**kaylashay**](http://kaylashay.livejournal.com/) for [](http://wcpairings.livejournal.com/profile)[**wcpairings**](http://wcpairings.livejournal.com/). Thank you to [](http://angelita26.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelita26**](http://angelita26.livejournal.com/) for helping me get this started when she hosted writing games in the [](http://wcwu.livejournal.com/profile)[**wcwu**](http://wcwu.livejournal.com/) chat and to [](http://theatregirl7299.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://theatregirl7299.livejournal.com/)**theatregirl7299** for the beta.

"Why didn't you call me?"

Neal hadn't even looked at who was calling before he answered his phone, and he had to breathe for a minute, trying to figure out what to say.

"Neal? What happened? Why didn't you call me?"

Understanding slammed into Neal like a fist to the gut. "Elizabeth. I'm so sorry, I just--" Neal shook his head, wishing she were there.

"Neal, are _you_ okay?" Her voice was softer now, which only made Neal feel closer to falling apart. "They told me that Peter was the only one hurt, but--"

"No, no, I'm okay." Neal stood and walked across the waiting room, trying to shake off the daze he'd been in since seeing all of that blood. Peter's blood. His ears were still ringing too, which only made Elizabeth sound and feel that much further away. "I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, sweetie. Just tell me what happened."

Neal stood still and closed his eyes. He still wasn't sure exactly what had happened, but he had to pull himself together to tell her as much as he could.

~~~

It hadn't even been an interesting case. They were investigating what appeared to be a crime ring focused on moving counterfeit consumer products, mainly DVDs and purses. Their main suspect had ties to a warehouse in Long Island City, and Neal went along with Peter to scope it out. Neal had been talking about lunch, needling Peter about his unadventurous palate when they both suddenly realized that the sound they heard was the crackle of flames, that the stench of gasoline wasn't from an accidental spill.

"Run!" Peter had said, shoving Neal forward, and Neal ran. His flight instinct took over, and all he could think about was his feet pounding on the blacktop, the distance between himself and the warehouse. His heart beat to the sound of _run-run-run-run_ , and when he reached the car he launched himself up to scramble over the hood then dropped to the ground just as the building exploded and the car rocked against him as a wave of heat traveled overhead.

Neal looked to the side, expecting that Peter would be next to him, catching his breath in the aftermath of sprinting, but nobody was there. Nobody was there. Neal's adrenaline, which had started to fade, flooded back in with a bitter taste in his mouth as he shouted, "PETER!" He could barely hear his own voice but he shouted again as he rounded the car to see Peter sprawled on the ground next to the car, blood in his hair.

Peter had called for backup but Neal didn't know how far away they were. As he fell to his knees next to Peter, he pulled his phone out with one hand and with the other reached out to feel that Peter was still breathing, his heart still beating. Neal was terrified to move Peter in case he had a spinal injury, so he swallowed down the sick thought and called Diana. He couldn't hear the ringing on the line for the ringing in his ears, and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to hear Diana's voice so he just waited a moment then started talking.

"Peter's hurt. I don't know if you're there but the warehouse blew. It's still burning and Peter is hurt. We need an ambulance. We need an ambulance NOW! I don't--I don't know if he's okay. There's blood and I hope you're hearing me. I hope--"

Neal felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Diana, her eyes wild, and a team of paramedics rushing in behind her. As the paramedics swooped down on Peter, Neal stumbled back and let Diana guide him away. It was easier to hear her in person, and Neal told her everything he knew, which wasn't much.

The main thing he knew, the thing he couldn't stop thinking about even after Peter was loaded into the ambulance, even as he rode along with Diana as she dodged traffic to stay behind the ambulance on the way to the hospital, was that he'd left Peter behind. If Peter died, it was because Neal had left him behind to die. He tried to tell himself that this wasn't like what happened to Kate, that Peter had been a distance away from the blast rather than in its center, that Peter had been alive.

But he'd also been unconscious and bleeding from the head, and alive could change to not alive with frightening speed. Neal didn't hear what the paramedics said as they rolled Peter into the ER, and he didn't want to ask Diana. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know yet. Diana handed Neal the forms to fill out to get looked at himself, but the ER was busy and Neal wasn't in urgent need of help so he knew he'd be waiting a while. Diana apologized and rushed off to take the lead on everything that needed to be done with Peter out of commission, and Neal turned in his forms then found somewhere out of the way to sit and listen to the gradually diminishing ringing in his ears.

\---

Neal didn't know what else to tell Elizabeth. He realized that if somebody had called her she might know more about Peter's condition than he did. "Is Peter--do you know--"

"I haven't talked to a doctor yet but Agent Jones told me that Peter was awake and they were taking him to get some x-rays."

"Oh god, awake." Neal sat down again and bent over to rest his head on his free hand. "That's--that's good."

"I hope so. I really hate that I'm stuck in California when you two need me there."

"I'm so sorry. I should've made sure he was safe before I--"

"Neal, I don't know exactly what happened but I know that no matter what, that Peter--" El broke off, her voice tight, and Neal squeezed his eyes shut as he saw imagined her tearing up. She sniffled loudly then continued. "Peter would never want you to get hurt on account of trying to keep him safe. Of course I want you both safe but really it sounds like he'll be okay. He's strong, you know that."

Neal sighed and tried not to see the blood in Peter's hair. "I really wish you were here."

"Oh god, I do too. But I'm going to be on a plane in a few hours, and I'll be home late tonight. But for now, Neal, take care of yourself. And take care of him."

"I will. I love you."

"I love you, too." El hung up, and Neal pushed his head into both hands for a minute before standing up and walking over to the men's room. He washed his face and pushed his hair back and tried on a smile then headed back out to the front desk.

"Excuse me, hi. I really need to know what's going on with my partner, Peter Burke."

"Peter Burke? Are you a relative?"

"I'm his _partner_. My name is Neal Caffrey, and if you look in his file you'll see me listed as an emergency contact. Please?"

The woman behind the desk tapped at her keyboard and a few seconds and then nodded. "Okay, you can come on back, Mr. Caffrey."

"Really?"

She smiled and pointed Neal towards a door. "I'm sure your partner would like to have somebody waiting with him."

Neal swallowed hard and walked through the door then followed the woman through a maze of small, curtained-off rooms. She held back one of the curtains, and before he stepped through Neal braced himself to see Peter broken, barely alive. When he pushed past the curtain and saw Peter sitting propped up and _awake_ he had to stop and stare and try not to do anything stupid. "Hey," he said, wincing at the way his voice shook.

"Hey, you." Peter smiled, looking exhausted and pained. "Are you okay?"

"Am I okay? I'm fine. You're the one who was unconscious in an ambulance a little while ago."

Before Neal could figure out what to say next, the curtain parted again and a doctor walked in. "Hello again, Mr. Burke. And you are?"

"He's my partner."

"Neal Caffrey. What's going on? Is Peter going to be okay?"

"Yes, he should be fine. Mr. Burke, you were very lucky. You do have two cracked ribs and several others that are bruised, so that will be uncomfortable for a while but as long as you give yourself time to heal and follow the discharge instructions I don't expect any complications."

"But his head? It was--there was blood."

The doctor nodded. "Yes, there were three lacerations in the back of his head that needed to be sutured, but the head CT showed no evidence of concussion. Mr. Burke, you should expect to be very sore tomorrow morning so take it easy and don't be afraid to take the pain medication I'll be prescribing for you. Will you be going home with him, Mr. Caffrey?"

"Yes." Neal had a sudden flash of worry that Peter wouldn't want him there after the way Neal had abandoned him before the explosion, but when he looked up at Peter he was agreeing with the doctor.

"You should make an appointment with your primary care physician for a follow-up on your ribs and to get your stitches out, and you may want to follow up with an audiologist but based on how you tested a little while ago I expect your hearing should be fine in a day or two."

"Thank you, but please wait," Peter said as the doctor turned to leave. "Neal, has anybody examined you, made sure you're okay?"

"No. Diana made me sign in but they're pretty busy, and I'm fine."

"Dr. Marshall, can you please get somebody to examine my partner? He was a little faster than me in running to safety." Peter smirked at Neal, while Neal felt a stab of guilt in his chest. "But not that much faster."

The doctor turned a sharper eye on Neal, then nodded. "Why don't you have a seat here, Mr. Caffrey, and we'll get you checked out. Let me just go get your paperwork."

She left then and Neal stepped closer to Peter, close enough to see the places where his hair was pushed aside for stitches. "I'm so sorry, Peter. I don't know what I was thinking."

"What are you talking about?"

"I left you. I ran and left you behind. That's not--not okay."

"What? Neal, I told you to run, you ran, and I'm sure as hell glad you did. I was just a little bit too slow." Peter shook his head and winced. "If you'd been behind me, you might've been killed, and I'm not good with that."

"So I'm supposed to be okay with you getting hurt?"

"Look, this is pointless. We're both going to be okay." Peter shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "Would you please sit down?"

"I second that." Dr. Marshall walked into the room with a teenage-looking doctor and peered up at Neal. "Please sit down, Mr. Caffrey, and Dr. Sabetti will get you checked out so that you can both go home."

"Fine." Neal pulled Peter's phone out of his pocket and handed it over. "Call Elizabeth."

Neal sat and let the doctor check him out, and he listened to Peter's side of the conversation. He tried not to imagine what it would be like to tell Elizabeth that he'd let Peter get killed, that they'd lost him. He failed.

Less than an hour later, Neal helped Peter get dressed in his suit--his suit that would have to be thrown away because the rips and scrapes and charred places could never be fixed. He helped Peter move from the hospital wheelchair into the front passenger seat of Diana's car and then got in back behind him. He helped Peter inside and shadowed him up the stairs to the bedroom, where Neal gathered every pillow in the house to get Peter propped up just right. Neal knew from experience that cracked and bruised ribs hurt like hell, and he wanted to spare Peter as much pain as possible.

Neal had fed Satchmo, checked in with Elizabeth, and washed up the few dishes in the sink when his phone rang. "Peter? What's wrong? What do you need?"

"You," Peter said slowly. "Stop puttering around and come back up here."

"Okay," Neal said. What else was he supposed to do?

Neal got Satchmo settled then collected some ice packs and bottles of water and went back upstairs. In the bedroom, Peter looked miserable. He was tugging at the pillows behind his back and wincing at every movement. "Hey, you need to relax or you're going to hurt yourself worse."

"The damn pillows are too soft. I can't get comfortable."

"I have some things that might help." Neal shook one of Peter's pain pills out of the container and held it out to him along with an open bottle of water. Peter glared at the pill for a moment then gave in and tossed it back, chasing it with the water. Neal climbed up on the bed next to Peter, moving carefully to jostle the mattress as little as possible then folded the covers down to Peter's waist. The bruises, when Neal pushed up Peter's t-shirt, were ugly and sure to be worse the next day. Delicately, slowly, he lay the ice packs down on both sides of Peter's chest then pressed a hand to Peter's shoulder as he tensed from the cold and the pain and then started to relax as the ice did its job.

"Thanks," Peter said, his voice rough. They were both still for a few minutes, Peter letting the pills and the cold work on his pain and Neal keeping his hand where he could feel the small, regular movements of Peter's breaths. Then Peter frowned and started trying to get comfortable again.

"What can I do to help?" Neal wasn't sure what he could do without making Peter hurt worse.

"The pillows are just too soft, and I feel like I need to be up more." Peter sighed and looked sideways at Neal. "Could you maybe--?"

"Okay, let's take it slowly." Neal knelt up on the bed and helped Peter sit up a few inches further then pulled the pillows out and maneuvered himself into their place between Peter and the headboard. Before Peter could relax back again, Neal pulled back a couple of pillows to give Peter better support then guided Peter slowly back down. Nothing Neal did could keep the changes in position from hurting, and he could feel Peter shaking a little as he slumped back against Neal's chest, his head tipped back on Neal's shoulder. Neal stretched his legs out on either side of Peter's hips and held the ice packs flat against his ribs until the shaking gave way to exhaustion.

"Better," Peter said. "Thank you."

"Shh, rest." When it was time to take away the ice packs, Neal tugged the covers back up and ran his fingers up and down Peter's arm until Peter fell asleep. Neal closed his eyes and felt the regular puffs of Peter's breath against his neck, but he also smelled the hospital antiseptic from the cuts on Peter's head. _It could've been so much worse,_ he told himself, and he didn't know whether that was consolation or a warning.

Neal stayed there cradling Peter's body with his own until Peter woke again, then he helped Peter out of bed so that they could both take a bathroom break and stretch out stiff muscles. It was hard, seeing a man like Peter Burke turn pale and sweaty just from getting out of bed, and Neal knew it would be several weeks before he was back to normal. Several weeks of pain that Neal should have prevented.

Peter slowly walked out of the bathroom then sighed when Neal met his eyes. "You have to stop blaming yourself, babe." He kissed Neal, a gentle brush of lips, then whispered in his ear, "I'm okay. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not--" _Kate._ "Not going anywhere."

Neal put his hand behind Peter's head, carefully avoiding the wounds there, and kissed him back, soft but lingering. "I plan to hold you to that."

Neal went to check on Satchmo then brought up a dinner of cheese and crackers and apple slices with more water for Peter and a glass of wine for himself. Neal climbed back behind Peter again and held him while they both ate then gave Peter another pill and held him while he slept, switching out ice packs until they were too warm to do any good. He soothed Peter back to sleep when he half-woke with nightmares, and he sighed with relief when Elizabeth texted him that she had landed at JFK, safe and sound.

When Neal heard the door open downstairs, he slipped out from behind Peter and replaced himself with the mound of pillows, hoping Peter was in deep enough sleep that he wouldn't wake up in pain. Neal met Elizabeth at the bottom of the stairs, and she took him in her arms, squeezing so tightly that his own ribs ached. Neal hugged her back, shaking a little bit as he let go of some of the fear and worry he'd been holding onto for hours.

"He's going to be okay," Neal whispered into her hair, and for the first time he really believed it.


End file.
